Standing In A Quiet Line

If you don’t mind I will just
stand still for a bit longer.
Turn up your volume

if you want but no amount
of rock shall roll me
from this spot. Music stopped 

pushing me around a while ago.
I sit and noodle now and then,
but only when I want. I’m not

driven as I once was. I’m not 
cuffed to sound. I barely listen
except in the car and that’s mostly

to drown out the noise from my wallet,
my brakes that need attention,
my muffler that needs attention.

How did any of it pass inspection?
If you don’t mind I’ll just stand
still a bit longer. Here in the line 

it’s nerve-soothing quiet.
It goes on ahead of me for years.
I can’t see the Doorway just yet, 

but when I get there I hope
it’s just as quiet. I don’t care
about the rest. Maybe I’ll be able

to hear myself playing guitar
without guilt for not being more
than I was. Maybe there will be

no car or wallet within miles.
Maybe I’ll be loved again, or
at least at peace

without having that,
if I can once again
just pass inspection.